


You Can Never Go Home Again

by Leviarty



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nostalgia, Wistful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviarty/pseuds/Leviarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny finally makes it back to Jersey, but finds that home isn't what he remembered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Never Go Home Again

It was almost two years between packing up all his things and moving to Hawaii, and finally stepping off a plane in New Jersey again. Not for lack of trying – he’d wanted to visit since pretty much the moment he set foot on the islands, but it hadn’t been practical. Even telling his parents that Matty was on the run from the FBI had to be done over the phone, despite how much he wanted to be there in person.

And he’d wanted to bring Grace back, to visit her grandparents and the place that was _supposed_ to be home.

Instead he was returning home, alone, to testify for an old case he’d worked.

Still, he was a little excited.

 

Except, from the moment he was off the plane, it all felt wrong. The airport had that too-clean smell, mixed with some odor he couldn’t quite place, and the rental company had fucked up, so instead of the car he’d ordered, he was stuck in some hybrid with too many special buttons and features that no one, _no one_ in their right mind needed.

Despite the fact that the sun was not yet up, the streets were crowded, which at least was familiar, but a drive that should’ve taken him twenty minutes took over an hour, and involved no less than a dozen near-accidents. By the time he reached his hotel, he was tired and cranky. Before he knew it, or even had a chance to think it through, his phone was pressed to his ear and ringing.

It wasn’t until Steve answered that he realized what he was doing. “Danny? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Sorry, I didn’t realize what time it was. Go back to sleep.”

“ _Danny_ ,” Steve said before he could hang up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just… it smells.”

“What?”

“It smells weird here. I thought maybe it was just the airport, but it’s _everywhere_. I don’t remember it smelling like this. And I swear, I have not seen driving this reckless since… well, since that car chase we were in last week. I’m pretty sure I passed more felonies in progress than I’d care to count.”

“Danno, are you perhaps missing Hawai’i?”

“NO. Absolutely not.”

“Right, so you called me in the middle of the night, or very early morning in your case, so you could, what? Make me jealous about the great time you’re having in a smelly city?”

“Well, no…”

“Sounds like you called to complain.”

“Listen here, I have been flying for 12 of the last 15 hours. I am tired and cranky and I want none of your Jersey-hating bull.”

“You called me,” Steve reminded him.

Alright, that was perhaps true, but it didn’t give him license to be a twat about it.

 

He visited his parents as soon as the sun was reasonably high in the sky, but his two-hour nap left him no less cranky than he was before.

“You’re always cranky,” his ma said when he apologized for any future poor behavior. “No surprise there. Now, tell us all about Hawaii.”

He’d already told them a little about Hawaii, sent them the occasional email, a few pictures of Grace here and there, but now that he was right in front of them, he could complain all he wanted, show them every picture. And really, that’s how it was supposed to go – tell them how much he missed home, how terrible Hawai’i was, give them a few good pictures of their grandbaby.

But instead he voice sounded fond, even as he complained about his stupid reckless partner, about the too-bright sun, about the sand that stuck everywhere even if he never set foot on the beach. He flipped through the pictures on his phone, and found himself showing off not just Grace, but Kono and Chin and Steve and Kamekona. There were one of Kono teaching Grace to surf, ones of Steve and Grace building a massive sandcastle in his backyard, ones of Grace and Chin shouting their excitement over a football game.

And then there are the ones he doesn’t remember taking, the ones he couldn’t have taken because he’s the subject of them. Ones where Kono tries to teach him to surf, both in and out of the water, and Grace looks on with laughter in her eyes. And ones taken with less steady hands from the backseat of the Camaro – before she’d gotten her own phone, Grace had spent a lot of time playing with his, apparently snapping pictures. Some are just Danny, half looking over his shoulder smiling at her, and some are he and Steve, clearly mid-argument. There’s one, taken from the second floor of the McGarret house, of Steve dragging Danny into the water, and another taken from the shoreline, of them walking up to the house, Steve’s arm draped across his bare shoulders.

He felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia for that moment. He didn’t know it had been captured, didn’t know why it made him feel the way it did, but nonetheless, there it was.

“Is this your house, Dan?” his dad asked. He’d insisted on calling him Dan since he turned twenty, and it was almost as annoying as the way Rachel called him Daniel when she was irritated with him. “You didn’t say you lived in such a nice, big house.”

“No, it’s not mine, its Steve’s.” He didn’t point out that people, namely Steve’s dad, had been killed in that house, or that it had been shot up a handful of times, or that there were still bloodstains and bullet holes as proof. It wasn’t until it was brought up though, that he realized that he didn’t have a single photo of his place, or just how many were taken at that house, or how much of his life had somehow come to take place there.

He excused himself under the excuse of meeting with the ADA to prepare for the testimony, which was entirely true, though perhaps a couple hours off, but he knew he had to leave his parents house now, before they drew him in with food and questions he didn’t know how to answer.

 

The courthouse was smaller than he remembered, and voices echoed off the walls in ways that made his head ache. It came as a relief when the judge called for a recess, allowing him to escape into something that resembled fresh air.

“Hey man,” his old partner said, jogging up behind him. “Wanna grab a slice?”

And of course the answer was yes, it was the first thing he’d wanted to do upon returning home, he just hadn’t found the time.

But that too felt wrong. He hated pineapple on his pizza, _hated_ it, and anyone who put pineapple on pizza was severely sick in the head. And damn, he forgot how good Jersey pizza was.

But also he kind of missed the process of arguing about it, picking stupid pineapples off his pizza and flinging them at anyone who thought they belonged there in the first place.

Clearly he’d suffered some kind of aneurism, because he couldn’t possibly be feeling nostalgia for things he hated.

 

The buildings were taller, and everything smelled weird, and he couldn’t remember the last place he’d seen a tree, and everyone had a faintly orange tan, and he’d been cussed out by strangers at every turn (most of whom at least had the decency to do it in a language he understood, he told himself), and fuck, it was _cold_.

“Is it possible,” Steve asked when he called that evening to check in. “That all this time you’ve spent telling me about how great and beautiful and better than Hawai’i it is, you’ve been lying the whole time?”

“That’s just it, Steve. It _used to_ be beautiful and great. I don’t know what happened.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“I have been away from Hawai’i less than two days. I am not suddenly fond of the hellhole you call home.”

“I wasn’t talking about Hawai’i, brah.”

Danny hung up on him, because there was no way in hell he was going to entertain the possibility that he’d spent the last two years romanticizing home.

 

He just didn’t understand how so much had changed in so little time.

“It hasn’t really changed much,” his dad said. “A few new buildings here, a fresh paint job there.”

“Everything is different,” Danny said, shaking his head.

“Oh baby,” his ma said, patting his hair lovingly. “Perhaps it’s not the place that’s changed, but you.”

 

He didn’t quite believe her until he was sitting in his rental car, parked on one of the streets that used to be part of his beat. He remembered taking Grace to play at the park across the way, though they’d only gone once or twice. Everything looked exactly as he remembered it, but none of it felt the same.

He flipped through the pictures in his phone one by one, until it all fell into place.

It wasn’t just Grace, even though he considered home to be wherever she was. It was everything – Kono and Chin and Steve, and the stupid sand and the stupid sun. All this time he’d spent building up nostalgia for New Jersey, and maybe there were plenty of things to miss, but he’d made a family in Hawai’i.

Maybe ma was right, the place hadn’t changed so much, it was him, his eyes that were seeing things differently.

 

“I can’t believe you’re already leaving,” his dad said, shaking his hand.

“The trial is all wrapped up,” he said with a little shrug. “Time to go home.” The word tumbled out of his mouth before he even had the chance to realize, and he shocked himself by not trying to take it back.

“You should bring your boyfriend along next time you come back,” his ma said. “We’d like to meet him.”

“My-” He opened his mouth to deny it, to correct her, but something stopped him. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

 

He stared out the window as the plane taxied down the tarmac, then watched as Jersey grew smaller and smaller. There were a lot of things he liked about it, things he loved, but seeing it after two years made him realize that all the things he’d missed were the things that didn’t matter anymore. Home in Jersey didn’t exist the way he remembered it, and maybe, well, maybe home wasn’t a place, but a feeling.

 

He grabbed his luggage and hailed the nearest taxi at the Honolulu airport.

“Welcome to Hawai’i,” the driver said, sounding less than enthusiastic. “Where to?”

Without even thinking, he said “Piikoi Street.”

“That’s residential,” the driver said. “No hotels or attractions there.”

“I know,” Danny said. “And don’t think you can rack up the bill by taking the long way round either.”

“Haole knows his way around the islands?”

Danny rolled his eyes and smiled a little.

 

He wasn’t surprised to find his car parked in the driveway next to Steve’s truck, and after paying to cabbie, he almost got in to drive back to his apartment, but he could see the lights on in the house, and decided to drop in, for a little while at least.

He tried the front door, and was not surprised to find it unlocked.

“Babe?” he called out.

“Round back,” he heard Steve shout back.

Danny grabbed a longboard from the fridge before heading out to the lanai. “You don’t lock your doors, don’t set your alarm. What if I was a serial killer or ax murder or drug dealer?”

“This conversation would’ve been over quicker if you were,” Steve said, shooting him a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me you were on your way back? I would’ve picked you up at the airport.”

The thing was, Danny knew that, knew he wouldn’t have hesitated – after all, he’d dropped him off so he wouldn’t have to pay overnight parking fees.

He shrugged and relaxed into the lawn chair.

“So, how was home?” Steve asked.

“Not quite where I left it,” Danny answered. Steve furrowed his brow, but didn’t ask for clarification. “How long have we been dating?” Danny asked.

“I don’t know. A while.”

Danny smiled. “And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Steve shrugged, like it was no big deal at all. Maybe it wasn’t. “Knew you’d come around when you figured it out.”

Home, he realized, did mean quite what he always thought. It wasn’t the wistful place he’d longed for but could never return to. Home was, instead, right here, the place he never really got the chance to miss.

“I’m here now,” he said.


End file.
